


Cavoli Riscaldati

by crazychelseablue



Series: More Than Words [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:31:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2454815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazychelseablue/pseuds/crazychelseablue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cavoli riscaldati - an Italian phrase meaning 'The result of trying to revive an unworkable relationship'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cavoli Riscaldati

The air was filled with the clinking of forks and knives against plates and pleasant chatter. Amidst the sea of important men conducting important business meetings and doe-eyed young couples full of romantic words and suppressed passion, two strangers sat amidst a deafening silence. They each ate with their heads down, eyes never moving from their food to the man across the table wearing the matching gold band on his finger.

It was their five year anniversary.

“I used to love you, you know.” the man with short chestnut hair and deep brown eyes stated matter-of-factly.

“I know.” There was no trace of sorrow or regret, only the cold, indifferent statement of fact.

“And you used to love me.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway. “I did.”

“How stupid we both were.”

“Indeed.”

There was another long stretch of silence before the man with dark hair and striking green eyes said “I’m going to Paris tomorrow for business.”

“You’re always off somewhere or other. I can hardly be expected to notice anymore.”

“I never expected you to take any special note.” No anger. No bitterness. Simply the ever-present indifference. “I only thought that you might be happy about the replenishing of the wine cellar.”

“Oh. Well I suppose I am.”

The waiter came and desert was ordered, along with drinks of a stronger nature than the champagne served with dinner.

“Are you happy?” Tired green eyes searched a freckled face with a sort of weary curiosity.

“Does it really matter?” He took a healthy sip of his newly arrived brandy.

“No.” He drained his own glass before harsh green eyes met cold brown ones. “I guess it doesn’t.”


End file.
